


Hold On Tight (It Hurts the Most to Walk Away)

by RobinsonsWereHere



Series: Shots in the Dark [2]
Category: Psych
Genre: Abigail is No Longer Oblivious, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/M, Feelings, Gus is the Best, Hurt/Comfort, Jules and Lassie are practically siblings, Juliet is Also The Best, Shules, gus and shawn are Best friends, maddie and henry are low-key still in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-02-09
Packaged: 2019-10-14 00:17:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17498033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RobinsonsWereHere/pseuds/RobinsonsWereHere
Summary: Sequel to my 4x09 AU fic "I Scream, You Scream". Shawn wakes up, but that's just the first step in a long road to recovery. And now that he's awake, he has to deal with the consequences of his actions...So does everyone else.





	1. Flashes

**Author's Note:**

> IMPORTANT: This will not make sense if you don't read the first fic in the series first! So if you haven't, go do that, I'll wait ;) Did you read it? Good. Here we go!

_Shawn is ten years old when his father first takes him to the shooting range. It’s way too loud and Shawn hates the way the gun jumps in his hand with every shot. He’d rather be at the beach with the Gusters. His dad tells him that he’ll need to learn to shoot if he’s going to be a cop. That’s the first time it occurs to Shawn that he doesn’t want to follow in Henry’s footsteps. There are guns everywhere and the gunshots echo despite the earmuffs and Shawn hates every minute of it._

No.

_Shawn is thirteen years old and he’s spending a day off school in the SBPD bullpen, because his dad is working, and his mom is analyzing people and the Gusters are on vacation over the long weekend like normal people. He spins lazily in his father’s chair, watching his parents argue over something trivial. Well, he’s guessing it’s trivial; they’re too far away for him to listen in, and Shawn’s not that sure he’d want to. Suddenly, there’s a commotion across the room. A man is running into the bullpen from the direction of the holding cells. “He’s got a gun!” yells Detective Vick. Shawn is smart enough to hide under the desk, but he can still see what’s going on. Henry pushes Maddie against the wall as Karen puts a bullet in the criminal. Shawn is thirteen years old the first time he sees someone get shot._

That’s not right.

_Shawn is eighteen years old and the sound of the bullet leaving the gun to hit the target is no longer too loud. It’s a good stress reliever before exams. He still hates it. He’s never going to be a cop, he knows that now._

That’s wrong.

_Shawn is twenty-four years old. It’s sick that the shady guy carrying a gun reminds him of home. He anonymously tips off the police, and then, just for the fun of it, books a plane back to Santa Barbara. He doesn’t do it because he misses anyone. That would be stupid and sentimental, and Shawn Spencer is neither of those things._

He’s not twenty-four.

_The cute girl Shawn meets in the diner pulls out a gun. Her hands shake._

Juliet.

_Shawn’s rushing down to the wine cellar, trying to push past Jules and Lassie despite their repeated orders to “stay behind us, we have guns” because **he has to get to Gus.**_

Gus was safe. Shawn remembered that.

_Jules and Lassie rushing in, guns aloft, to rescue Shawn and Gus from the psychopaths holding them at gunpoint. Again._

He needs to remember something else.

_The thunderstorm and the splashing pool water and the gunshot ringing in the air as Juliet put a bullet through Clive’s hand_

Why can’t he remember?

”His heartrate is increasing…”

”Should we call a nurse?”

_Juliet standing in the drive in, no guns anywhere. They’re not in danger, for once. “I love you,” she says._

No. That’s not how that went.

_Relief flooding him as Jules and Lassie show up once again to save the day, pain blossoming in his shoulder, hitting the ground, the world going black_

Had he said it? He had, hadn’t he?

_Jules pressing her hands into his chest, panic filling her eyes as she tells him he’s going to be okay. “Juliet. I love you.”_

Juliet.

Jules.

“Jules.”

“Shawn?”

/////////////////////////

For the first few hours after they’d been let in to see Shawn, Abigail, Gus, Henry, Juliet, and Carlton had established a comfortable rhythm. Abigail sat in a char to the left of Shawn’s bed, Gus in another, opposite her, and Henry on the small couch near the foot of it. Juliet and Lassiter stood in the doorway like a pair of asymmetrical guardian angels. That wasn’t to say that they weren’t effective, oh no, the detectives had made certain that any doctor, nurse, or visitor had to get past them to get into the room. If anyone had to leave, it was as follows: Gus to get sandwiches, because he had a good brain for everyone’s order and Carlton to get coffee, because he insisted he’d go stir-crazy if all he did was stand there. Henry, Abigail, and Juliet were loath to leave the room, although Juliet relegated herself to the doorway and tried not to make eye contact with Abigail any more than necessary. This arrangement had worked until a short time ago.

Henry had been on the phone with Shawn’s mom throughout the evening, and finally, fifteen minutes ago, she’d arrived and ditched her stuff at some hotel near the hospital. Now Henry was somewhere at the front desk, arguing with the staff and trying to get them to let Madeline in to see Shawn. Carlton had left shortly before Henry on another coffee round, and after the older Spencer had left, Gus decided they needed more food. He’d somehow convinced Juliet to take his seat next to Shawn, though the blonde couldn’t remember much more than some ‘you’ve-been-working-all-day’ excuse paired with ‘he’ll want to see you when he wakes up’. No matter how it had happened, here she was, staring down at Shawn’s too-still form and avoiding the questioning look in Abigail’s eyes. You could cut the tension with a knife.

Then, after hours of nothing, after hours of emergency rooms and “you can’t see him yet” and standing there, waiting for any sign that Shawn was going to wake up, that he was going to be okay, something happens- on the heartrate monitor, the beeps get a little bit faster. Juliet glances up to see if it’s just her mind playing tricks on her, but no, the numbers have increased as well. “His heartrate is increasing,” she says aloud.

“Should we call a nurse?” Abigail asks. Shawn shifts a little in the bed between them.

“I-I don’t know…” Juliet stammers. For a few seconds, they watch Shawn shift beneath them. His breathing is unsteady. Abigail reaches for the **call** button. He doesn’t open his eyes, but Shawn speaks. One word.

“Jules.”

“Shawn?”


	2. Waxing Philosophical

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shawn is awake, and high on pain meds, in a room with his girlfriend and the woman he's in love with. They are not the same person. You can see where this is going.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't decide whether this is angst or fluff. It's a combo, I guess.

”Jules.”

“Shawn?” He groans, and his eyelids flutter open. Juliet watches him tilt his head, looking at her and then to his other side, where Abigail is holding his hand. 

“Abigail,” he says. He turns back to Juliet. “Jules.”

“Hi, Shawn,” says Abigail, who looks as relieved as Juliet feels to see him awake.

“Abigail,” Shawn says again. “I’m sorry…”

“It’s not your fault, Shawn,” she assures him. “Just… maybe don’t go charging off by yourself in the middle of the night next time.”

“Yeah… that didn’t go well,” Shawn mumbles. “I got shot… I think…”

Before either woman can respond to that, Gus appears with snacks, which he promptly drops on the floor upon realizing Shawn is awake. “Shawn!” he nearly yells.

“Hey, Gus,” Shawn greets. “They gave me the good stuff, huh? I think they did, ‘cause my shoulder doesn’t hurt. I think I got shot in the shoulder. I remember getting shot, but I also remember telling Jules I loved her, so…” Juliet freezes. She sees Gus do the same, but he recovers. Abigail frowns, but her eyes don’t leave her boyfriend.

“You did get shot, Shawn,” Gus says. “They’ve got you on the appropriate pain meds, which is why you feel high, and also why you have an even worse brain-to-mouth filter than usual. You should get some sleep,” he suggests. 

“Nah,” Shawn groans. “Dreams’re weird. Plus, this stuff feels nice. It’s like I’m just… existing, without worrying, and I’m totally okay. It’s like being in love,” he says.

“Oh, great,” comes a new voice from the doorway. “Not only is he awake, he’s waxing philosophical,” Lassiter complains. 

Juliet looks up at her partner and mouths, _Help me_. He raises an eyebrow.

“Being in love hurts though,” Shawn continues, oblivious. “It hurts when you mess up and it hurts the most when you walk away,” he rambles. He looks up at Abigail, though whether he actually sees her is debatable. “I hated walking away from that pier,” he says, almost whispering. “I was just too damn scared, and then I did it again, at the drive in. I never should have walked away…” Juliet winces; he’s looking at her now. When she meets his eyes, though, she forgets for a second. He’s looking at her with those captivating eyes that are never the same color no matter how long she stares at them, looking at her like she’s put the sun in the sky. She forgets how to breathe. Then she snaps out of it, and guilt overwhelms her. She’s not the one he should be looking at like that.

“Shawn, you didn’t leave at the drive in,” Abigail is saying to him, and Juliet is _really_ hoping that the chair she’s in will turn into a portal to literally anywhere else. Unfortunately, it doesn’t, and understanding seems to have dawned on Abigail. “You didn’t leave _me_ , she murmurs, looking at Juliet. Juliet maintains eye contact, although she’s fairly certain she looks like a deer in headlights. Nonetheless, it’s Abigail who presses her lips together and looks away. Juliet swallows hard.

/////////////////////

Without saying a word, Maddie wraps her arms around Henry and leans into his chest. He does the same. “I came as fast as I could,” she whispers.

“I know,” Henry comforts. “He’s okay, Maddie. He’s gonna be okay.” She sighs and leaves the hug, smiling at him. They walk to the elevator, still holding hands. 

“What happened?” She asks.

“He was chasing a lead,” Henry answers. “He got there too fast, got himself in over his head before the cops got there. Detective O’Hara kept him alive long enough to get into an ambulance, but the suckers kidnapped her partner.”

Maddie winces in sympathy. “Detective Lassiter,” she recalls. “Did she get him back?”

“Yeah. She found him a couple hours ago. He should be in his own room recovering from the damn concussion, but he won’t leave O’Hara’s side, and she won’t leave Shawn.”

“Mmmn,” Maddie hums. “She did seem pretty close with him at the reunion.”

Henry sees right through her casual remark; she knew he would. “I don’t know shit about what that kid’s doing,” he tells her, “and I don’t think he does either.” The elevator arrives on Shawn’s floor. “He’d better figure it out,” he continues as they start down the hallway. “Right now, he’s got two girls who care a hell of a lot about him, and it looks like he’s gonna have to break _someone’s_ heart.”

“Well, I don’t know much about any of this, Henry,” Madeline replies, “but these things do have a way of working out.”

“Do they?” he asks. She smiles softly at him and turns to the doorway marked **536**. The sliding door is all the way open, but it’s being guarded by two familiar faces: Detective O’Hara, who is blushing and staring at the ground, and Detective Lassiter, who has his head in his hands. Maddie’s not sure if that’s because of his concussion or because of whatever her son is saying- she can hear him rambling something about pineapples and Gus flying even from the hallway.

“Hello, Detectives,” she greets. “It’s nice to see you again… despite the circumstances.” They nod. Henry moves into the room. “Detective O’Hara,” Madeline says, “I hear you saved my son’s life.”

Juliet looks up, startled. “I… did my best,” she says.

“Juliet, I married a cop. I work with police departments all over the US. I know what can happen with a gunshot wound,” Maddie tells her. She places a hand on the younger woman’s shoulder. “You saved his life. Thank you.” Juliet smiles and is saved from answering as Shawn finally realizes his mother is there.

“Mom,” Shawn calls, coughing a little. 

Maddie moves to the side of his bed, placing a hand on his cheek as if he were still six and trying to fake a fever to get out of school. “Hey, Goose.”

“Mom, you’re a psychologist,” Shawn murmurs. “Is it possible to love, like actually love, more than one person?”

“Well,” Maddie begins. “There’s a difference between loving someone and being in love with them.” Shawn is looking at her expectantly. “Shawn, do you want to save this conversation for when you’re more lucid?”

“Nah.”

Maddie takes a deep breath, looking around the room. Abigail and Juliet are looking anywhere but at each other. Gus has his head in his hands. Her gaze finally settles on Henry. “We, as humans, are capable of loving many, many people. Like, you love Gus, and me, and your father. Don’t argue, Shawn, you know I’m right,” she tells him. Henry shakes his head and she smirks at him. “But really, we only ever fall in love with one person. It’s not like… a soulmate, or anything, but there will be someone you meet, and you will never be able to get them out of your head. You’ll be happy just because they exist and when they’re sad or upset, you feel like you’d walk across the ocean just to make them smile again. Sometimes when you look at them, you forget how to breathe. Shawn, _that_ is what it means to fall in love.”

Shawn is asleep again. With a small huff of laughter, Maddie joins Henry on the couch. “My psychoanalyzing always did put him to sleep,” she says, leaning into his shoulder.

“Mads, that wasn’t psychoanalysis. That was poetry,” he informs her.

“Oh, Henry. You always were a romantic,” she sighs.

Shawn snores softly. His steady breathing is a relief to everyone in the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you're enjoying this! Leave kudos or a comment, if you want!


	3. Everything Hurts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lassie gets discharged. Abigail does some thinking. Shawn wakes up once again.

Lassiter wakes to a hand shoving at his shoulder. “Carlton. What day is it,” his partner asks in an exhausted monotone.

“Fuck if I know,” he growls, shoving his face into the pillow by reflex. He regrets the motion as pain reverberates through his skull.

“That’s fair. I think it’s Sunday,” O’Hara continues. “When did the Civil War end?”

“April ninth, 1865. Too easy.”

“What’s my badge number?” He rattles it off. “Okay, you can go back to sleep.”

“For another two hours.”

“Yep.”

//////////////////////

By eight the next morning, Lassiter has gone through an MRI and several X-Rays, and he’s due for a few more brain scans. It’s safe to say the Head Detective is not enjoying himself. He sighs and shifts in his chair, careful not to knock his head against anything. A few seconds later, Juliet rounds the corner, two coffees in her hands. “So far, so good,” she tells him. “Nothing broken, and your MRI scan isn’t showing anything unexpected.”

Lassiter grunts in response, taking a large gulp of coffee. “I know I’m fine. What about Spencer?” 

“I haven’t been in to see him yet. I… don’t know if he’s awake.”

“You’re worried Abigail is.”

“…Shut up.”

“I’m just saying, O’Hara, you aren’t exactly subtle-“

“Carlton, stop talking.”

/////////////////////////

Abigail looks out the window, gazing over Santa Barbara. It’s a beautiful Sunday morning, with saturated blue skies and sunlight spilling over the city. Nobody else in the crowded hospital room is awake, which is a blessing and a curse. Abigail hates being left alone with her thoughts, but she does need to think over quite a few things. Yesterday had taken everything she thought she knew about her relationship with Shawn and thrown it out the window. As much as Detective O’Hara tried to not show it, or maybe even not feel it, it was clear to see that the woman had feelings for Shawn. And after Shawn’s rambling speeches last night, Abigail guessed he felt the same way. So, the only thing in their way was Abigail herself. _This sucks,_ Abigail thinks. _I love Shawn, or at least… I think I do. But maybe I’m still in love with the guy in high school who hid his troubles behind jokes and got flustered every time he tried to talk to me?_ Sighing, she shakes her head. This is only making her feel worse. As her stomach growls, Abigail decides that she’s done thinking for now. As she stands, she gently shakes Gus awake. “I’m going to the cafeteria,” she says, keeping her voice down lest she wake the other occupants of the room. “Do you want a breakfast sandwich?”

Gus yawns. “Sure, thanks,” he says. “Um, listen-“

“If you’d get some coffees from the cart, that would be great,” Abigail says abruptly. “I’ll be back.”

“Yeah, alright,” Gus sighs.

////////////////////

Shawn wakes blearily. His head still feels fuzzy, but the high has partially dissipated and he can definitely feel the throbbing in his shoulder. He sighs dramatically, but his dry throat turns it into a raspy cough, which further agitates his wound. Gus hands him a cup of water, but he’s not sitting up enough to drink it. His mom appears with a straw; she’s sitting in the chair Abigail had occupied last night.

Oh god. _Last night._ Shawn tries to think, figure out which parts were real, and which were drug-induced dreams, but his brain isn’t working properly. He groans. 

“Shawn?” Gus asks. He sounds worried. 

“M’okay,” Shawn manages. “But- my head feels all… wrong and my shoulder hurts and I can’t- I can’t _think_ ,” Shawn says, fingers grasping at his sheets in frustration.

“I know, sweetheart,” Madeline tells him, rubbing her hand over his arm like she did when he was little. “But you don’t have to think too hard right now, okay? It’s alright, you’re safe.”

Shawn shakes his head. “M’not worried about bein’ safe,” he slurs. The meds are making it hard to put words together. “I can’t remember… if I said everything I think I said last night, I’m in deep sh-“ he breaks off, looking at his mom. “trouble.”

Henry snorts, which Shawn takes to mean that yes, he did say the stupid things. His mother’s ensuing glare reinforces this. “Gus, you’ll gimme a straight answer, right?” He asks his best friend.

“…yes.”

“Did I say all the stuff about love out loud or did I just think it?”

“You… did say it.”

 _greeeeeeeat,_ Shawn thinks. He inwardly winces. Or maybe outwardly. He can’t quite sit up yet, but the psychic does twist his head around to get a better glimpse of his girlfriend. “I’m sorry, Abigail,” he says, genuinely remorseful. Just because everything he’d said was true didn’t mean she deserved to hear it like that.

“It’s okay,” she says, sounding weirdly calm but also… defeated. She gives him a smile that’s clearly more for his benefit than out of any real emotion. Shawn sighs again. He feels horrible. His shoulder throbs and his brain is foggy and if that weren’t enough, he feels like he’s being crushed by the weight of too many wrong decisions piling on top of each other.

Ugh. He’s going back to sleep.

///////////////////

Juliet pulls up outside Lassiter’s building, realizing for the first time that she’s never actually been there. It’s definitely in the cheaper part of town, but it’s a decent place. Much of what make living in Santa Barbara expensive has to do with boardwalk access and ocean views. Without that, say, in the middle of town, maybe ten minutes from the police station, it’s possible to get a quality apartment for low rent. Although Juliet herself had prioritized the beach over her personal finances, she knew of many other SBPD personnel who lived around here. “Do you want me to walk you in?” She asks.

“I’ll be fine, it’s not like I’m stupid enough to try the stairs. My apartment is like, thirty feet from the elevator,” Carlton assures her. “You can go get some rest.”

“Yeah…” she says, looking out her window. “It’s been like, three days since I slept.”

Her partner is now standing outside the driver’s side window, looking confused and reluctant to go inside. “Unless… are you doing the thing women do where they stare dejectedly into space and tell you everything is fine but really, they’re just waiting for you to ask a third time? Because I’m legitimately horrible at picking up on that. There’s a reason I’m divorced.”

Juliet laughs, actually laughs, for the first time in what feels like ages. Her eyes flickered with amusement. “No, Carlton, I’m just thinking. Go home, I’ll see you at work tomorrow.”

He waves as he heads into the building. “See you then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks for reading!


	4. Side By Side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Friend (n). A person attached to another by feelings of affection or personal regard.

“No.”

Juliet’s nose crinkles, her brows knitting in confusion. “What?”

“Absolutely not,” The chief states.

“Huh?” Lassiter understands about as much as Juliet does.

“Under no circumstances are the two of you coming into work today,” Karen elaborates. “As a matter of fact, I don’t want to see you near this station until _at least_ this time next week.”

__The pair of detectives stare at her, dumbfounded._ _

__“Have I made myself clear?”_ _

__“Not at all,” they answer in unison._ _

__The chief sighs. “You’ve both been through a lot in the past few days. I want you- no. I’m _ordering_ you to take a week off. Detective Lassiter, you’re not even cleared for as much as desk duty with that concussion.”_ _

__Lassiter gives a suffering sigh at that. He looks resigned._ _

__“What about me?” Juliet asks. “I don’t have a head injury.”_ _

__“Maybe not, but Detective O’Hara, can you honestly tell me that you’ve had more than a moment’s rest, that you’ve had time to process anything or everything that’s happened since Mr. Spencer’s shooting?”_ _

__Juliet’s face twists into a frown as she considers the chief’s statement. “No, I can’t,” she admits._ _

__“Well, I don’t think this conversation needs to continue any longer,” Karen says decisively. “I’ll see you two next week. And fair warning: you will both be seeing a department psychologist.”_ _

__Juliet exchanges a glance with her partner. “Yes, ma’am,” she relents. Lassiter only nods, but at least it doesn’t look like the motion pains him. The chief walks away, and Juliet and Carlton head for the door. “At least we don’t have to do any paperwork,” she jokes. Lassiter scoffs, but the side of his mouth turns up in a smile. That works for her._ _

__///////////////////_ _

__Shawn is asleep again. Gus knows logically that that’s good, that with an injury as severe as a gunshot to the shoulder, sleep is the best way for him to heal. That doesn’t stop him from missing and worrying about his best friend. Since childhood, Shawn has always been a loud and constant blur of energy at Gus’s side. Sure, there were the years when Gus went to college and started working in pharmaceuticals while Shawn was off doing who-knew-what in -who-knew-where, but over the past four years, Gus has gotten used to being side by side again. He doesn’t like the cold that fills him when he thinks about how close he’d come to losing Shawn forever. Looking at him doesn’t do much to assuage the feeling; Shawn might be lying there in the bed, but he is too still, too pale. Gus sighs and shifts in his chair. It’s almost noon on a Monday, which means that Abigail has gone back to work and Juliet had mentioned something along those lines as well. Henry and Maddie are still there, the latter working from her laptop in the chair across from Gus’s. Henry has taken to wandering the halls and will do so until he reaches an area that is off limits to him. Earlier that morning he’d left for half an hour and now he’s been gone for nearly two._ _

__One of Shawn’s nurses, Esme, enters. “How are we doing?” She asks._ _

__“He’s still asleep,” Gus replies._ _

__“I can see that,” Esme laughs. “I’m asking you two. You’ve been here for a while. There’s s vending machine across the hall, you know.”_ _

__Gus nods in understanding. “I ate breakfast a few hours ago, and we’ve got water here.” The nurse continues checking Shawn’s vitals, and as she adjusts the oxygen monitor on his finger, he stirs._ _

__“Nnngh,” he groans. He forces open his eyes and they dart quickly around the room. “Hey,” says Shawn, voice scratchy._ _

__“Hey, Goose,” Maddie responds. Gus finds the water bottle with the straw and gives it to Shawn._ _

__“When can I get actual food?” Shawn asks._ _

__“You had solids at breakfast three hours ago, Shawn,” Gus chides._ _

__“No, no. I mean _actual_ food. Like, pizza and popcorn and pineapple smoothies.”_ _

__Gus looks to the nurse. “Can he have those?”_ _

__“Um… the smoothie, probably.”_ _

__“Cool!” Shawn sounds ecstatic._ _

__“I’ll get you one,” Gus tells Shawn._ _

__“Or… maybe Jules could bring me one during her lunch break?” Shawn asks._ _

__Gus gives his best friend a look. “She’s probably busy,” he warns. Shawn gazes at him in a manipulative fashion, giving him the tried-and-true puppy dog eyes as he reaches for his injured shoulder. Gus relents. “I’ll text her.”_ _

__Gus and Maddie laugh as Shawn’s face lights up. It’s good to see his smile again._ _

__///////////////////////_ _

__Juliet doesn’t speak for a long time._ _

__She leaves her heels at the beach access and then she and Carlton travel wordlessly over the sand. Wind blows strands of her hair around her face despite the bun she wears. The sun is shining bright in the dazzling blue sky, making beachgoers and citizens in general happy. It’s a beautiful day._ _

__/////////////////////_ _

__Carlton doesn’t mind silence._ _

__A lot of the time, he prefers it to speaking. Today especially, it seems like less effort. Also, what is there to even say? No, he’ll stay here, next to his partner, for as long as she needs him. She’s remarkably petite, now that she’s taken off her shoes. Her small stature and the solemnity of her expression make him want to put an arm around her or something. He wishes he could say something reassuring but nothing comes to mind. The head detective is reduced to staring sightlessly at the ocean, with the waves crashing rhythmically on the wet sand that shifts under his feet. Lassiter looks up at the sky and glares at the sun. He can feel a headache growing at his skull but is presently disinclined to do anything about it. Right now, he’s feeling pretty disinclined to do anything other than walk._ _

__////////////////////////_ _

__It’s a beautiful day._ _

__Juliet sees her partner look up at the sun and follows his gaze. Suddenly, her earlier sentiment rings false. Sure, the sun is still shining, and the waves are still crashing, and the sky is still blue but why the hell does it even _matter?_ Why should the world be so bright when everything in her life is dark and confusing? She stops suddenly, standing in the sand and staring at the horizon, her face void of emotion. From the worried look Carlton is giving her, she feels like she should say something._ _

__“What’s the _point?_ ”_ _

__“Of?”_ _

__“I don’t know. Love? Isn’t love supposed to be a happy thing?”_ _

__“You’re asking me? If you want my opinion, all relationships are doomed to end in despair.”_ _

__“Wow. Thank you, Carlton, I feel so much better.”_ _

__“I’m not sure why you’re asking me for help in the first place, O’Hara.”_ _

__“I just… the past few days have been a nightmare and even though, even though Shawn is alive and so are you, I still feel wound up and stressed out and just… sad.”_ _

__“That’s okay, you know.”_ _

__Juliet wrinkles her brow. “I’m normally a pretty happy person…”_ _

__“You are,” Carlton tells her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “You’re the happiest, most optimistic person I know. But that doesn’t mean you always have to be,” he says. “Frankly, your relentless cheer makes the rest of us look bad.” Juliet chuckles. “Look, Spencer’s gonna be okay. And once he is, whatever is going on with you and him and Abigail Lytar… well, I have no advice except to strongly caution you that Spencer is an idiot and a jerk and doesn’t deserve you, but I do think you’ll figure it out, one way or another. Life will get back to normal eventually.”_ _

__Juliet gives him a shaky smile, grateful for the pep talk. “Thank you, Carlton. How’s your head?” He offers some nonchalant response that is interrupted by a chime from her phone. Glancing at it, she sees a text from Gus. “Hey, apparently Shawn can have non-hospital food now. He wants us to bring him a pineapple smoothie.”_ _

__“They make those?”_ _

__“Yeah, there’s a place a few blocks from here if we can get back on the boardwalk. I’ll take one to him.”_ _

__“In that case, I’m coming with you. After we give Spencer the smoothie, you need to go back to your place and get some rest.”_ _

__“Deal.”_ _

__The sun silhouettes the two detectives as they walk down the beach, side by side._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Leave a comment or kudos if you liked it <3 I love to hear from you all!


	5. Everyone Needs Therapy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shawn has a panic attack in this chapter. If that's something you'd rather not read, skip the scene after Lassie's psych eval. The /////// lines are the scene breaks :) if I'm inaccurate in my depiction of the attack, don't hesitate to let me know! I have no personal experience with panic attacks. If you do, I admire your strength <3 happy reading!

Shawn shifts restlessly in the hospital bed, his eyes darting around the room. He’s been in the hospital for a week now, and it’s gotten old fast. If anyone would give him maybe six, seven minutes to himself, he’d find a way to sneak out. That’s quite possibly why nobody’s giving him time to himself. That’s bound to stop soon, though. His mom really can’t take any more time off and his dad is most likely going to visit less once she leaves. Gus, Lassie, Jules, and Abigail have all gone back to work already, although they do try to visit often. Gus will show up in the morning, sometimes while Shawn’s still asleep, during his lunch break, and for a few hours after work. If his route brings him by Santa Barbara General, he’ll say hi then as well. Abigail visits in the evenings, bringing him books or puzzles or flowers with a kiss on the forehead. On good days, she’ll stay while she does the kindergarten equivalent of grading, and they’ll laugh at the colorful pictures and messy handwriting of her students.

Juliet only visits between the hours of seven and two, and never on the weekends. Shawn pretends he doesn’t notice.

/////////////////////////////

Lassiter frowns at the man sitting across from him. The psychologist is at least a decade younger than the detective, maybe more. They’ve been sitting in the same positions for going on a half hour, and neither has said a word. Carlton glares at him. “If you’re just going to sit here and wait for me to say something or for the clock to run down, I’d rather go back to my paperwork.”

“You’ll have a lot of time to finish your paperwork unless I clear you for field duty,” Dr. Madana answers.

“I know the drill. I’ve done this before,” Lassiter sighs. He hates psychologists. They’re nothing but endless questions and talking in circles and they _always_ look like they know a secret.

“Well, Detective, you have had more psych referrals than most, that’s for sure. But really, what I’m getting from your file is that you prefer to make the first move. You’re quick to draw your weapon, and I think that’s because you don’t want to feel defenseless,” he says. Lassiter doesn’t comment. In an interrogation, when the guy across the table starts talking, you don’t interrupt until you’re sure he’s done. 

For now, Carlton’s just not going to think about which side of the table he’s on.

“-very solitary man,” Madana is saying. “I don’t think you trust anyone to have your back-“

“That’s not true,” Lassiter interrupts. 

“Oh?”

 _What happened to not saying anything voluntarily, genius?_ he berates himself. “I… I do trust people to watch my six. One person.” His eyes shift, looking anywhere but the doctor’s face. He knows it’s a sign of discomfort, of weakness, but he can’t help it. At the moment it’s all he can do not to pick up the stress ball on the table and squeeze it as hard as he can. 

“Who is that one person?” Asks Dr. Madana. 

“My partner,” Lassiter replies. “Detective O’Hara. She is loyal and fierce and beyond competent. I’ve seen her knock out a man twice her size with a single punch. She’s got the steadiest gun arm I’ve seen, excluding my own. Even before this shitstorm, she’s saved my ass multiple times,” he says. Now he’s rambling, which is a big no-no. He tries not to ramble unless he’s drunk. 

“Were you confident that she would find you, during your ordeal?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“ _Why?_ Because she’s my partner! I know how she works, and I know that she will stop at _nothing_ to protect the people she cares about, and somehow, for some reason, she’s decided I’m one of those.” Lassiter trails off, breathing hard. “God only knows I don’t deserve it.”

Madana is nodding slowly, his brow furrowed. “Thank you, Detective,” he says after a few seconds’ silence. “I think we’ll stop there for today.”

Lassiter sighs in relief and stands, already reaching for the door.

///////////////////

Nobody wears hats in a hospital- at least, nobody Shawn can see. It’s almost lunch, which means Gus will be here soon, but his parents left an hour go and he’s bored out of his mind. After establishing that there were no hats, he tried holding his breath for as long as he could. Before it even got hard, his heartrate had increased enough that a nurse came in to check on him. She’d forbid him from doing that, so back to counting hats, or glasses, or necklaces or scrubs or people in general, and that’s when it happens.

One second, he’s listening to the various beeps and murmurs of people rushing about, trying to form a picture of the hospital outside his room with his eyes closed. Then he hears something, among the indistinct murmurs. He hears just a few words, a nurse saying _he’s lost a lot of blood_ and another saying _look at me_ as he encourages a patient to stay awake, and Shawn’s not in the hospital anymore. Instead of a nurse it’s Gus, trying so hard not to faint because there is a _lot_ of blood and it’s all his, that’s not good, there’s too much and it’s also Juliet, her voice desperate and ragged with unshed tears as she begs him to _hold on Shawn, just a little bit longer, eyes on me Shawn, wake up_ and Shawn is trying, he’s trying to pull himself out of the living nightmare, but the throbbing ache in his shoulder has become a white-hot, fiery pain and he can’t wake up, he can’t breathe, he can’t even scream-

And then Gus is there.

Thank the fucking lord for Gus.

“Shawn, breathe. In, two, three. Hold, two, three, four. Out, two, three, four, five. Keep breathing, Shawn, that’s it. You’re okay.” 

Slowly, he comes back. He’s not lying on the asphalt of a parking lot, he’s sitting in a hospital bed. It’s not dark outside because it’s not four am, it’s noon. He’s no longer bleeding out. He survived. He’s a survivor. “I survived,” Shawn whispers.

“Yeah you did, Shawn. Yeah you did.”

////////////////////

By the time Juliet finishes telling Dr. Madana what happened that night in the parking lot, she’s emotionally drained. She lets out a shaky sigh and sinks back into the couch cushions, waiting for him to respond.

“Juliet, can you tell me at what point in your retelling you began to disassemble and reassemble your sidearm?”

Juliet looks down at her hands, gaping a little in shock. She hadn’t even noticed, but sure enough, she’s holding her partially assembled gun in both hands. She slides the magazine back into the stock and sheepishly holsters it at her side. “I… didn’t realize I was doing that.”

“I could tell,” the doctor says, with a reassuring smile. “If you’re curious, you took it out as you were describing walking back to the car after discovering that Detective Lassiter had gone missing.”

Juliet nods slowly. “That was the worst part… I didn’t know if Shawn was alive or what had happened to Carlton and I was alone in the dark. I felt powerless. I don’t like that; it’s one of the reasons I became a detective.”

“That’s a common sentiment among many of my patients in law enforcement,” says Dr. Madana. “Now, I’m guessing that firearm assembly is something you use as a calming mechanism?”

“Well, yeah, I guess. It’s kind of a last resort, if I’m close to freaking out and there’s nothing else I can do to keep my hands busy.”

“So it makes sense then, that when I ask you to describe a traumatic event, you’d do that. I see, thank you.”

Juliet’s nose wrinkles. “What do you see?”

“Every officer I work with has their own stress mechanisms and other behaviors. I’m just trying to understand yours,” he elaborates. 

“Oh.”

“I’d like to change topics, if you don’t mind. I bet you’re very thorough when you do paperwork, aren’t you?”

“I’d like to think I’m thorough in everything I do.” 

“I think you are, Juliet. You told me a detailed, specific story even though it hurt to think about it. That shows strength and dedication. I did notice one part of your story that you sort of glossed over, though.”

“Which part?”

“You said that while you were keeping Mr. Spencer alive, you two talked before the ambulance arrived. You did not say what you talked about.”

Juliet tries not to flush. It doesn’t work. “I… don’t remember. It was a really intense moment, I kind of had… tunnel vision.” The detective curses her inability to tell a convincing lie.

“Would it jog your memory if I reminded you that everything you say here stays between us?”

“Between us and the Chief, who you’ll send your final report to, you mean.”

“That is true. What’s also true is that the SBPD anti-fraternization policy does not extend to consultants.”

Well, then. She’d been even more obvious than she’d thought. “I… already knew that.”

“Why?”

Damn. This guy was good.

“I was trying to figure out what exactly my relationship with Shawn was and I figured I should probably start by checking if it was even legal.”

“What would you say your relationship with Mr. Spencer is?”

“Honestly? Complicated.”

“Most relationships are.”

“We… almost dated. But he’s seeing someone else. Only… when he was lying there, when he was bleeding out and he thought he was going to die… he told me he loved me.”

“Do you think he meant it?”

“Yes. He said something similar several times while he was… heavily sedated in the hospital.”

Doctor Madana nods slowly, then closes his notebook. “You’ve given me lot to think about, Juliet. I’ll see you tomorrow. Enjoy the rest of your day.”

Juliet blinks, surprised at the dismissal, but indeed, they’ve already gone past their allotted time. It looks like she won’t get to bring Shawn a smoothie today after all.

That’s probably a good thing… she’s got a lot to think about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loved it, hated it? Leave kudos or comments!


	6. Catwalks and Crossroads

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jules & Lassie go back into the field. Abigail gets a phone call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really like this chapter, for some reason. The first half and second half have different feels to them, but I think it fits together alright. Let me know what you think!

Juliet shines her flashlight down the hallway of the warehouse- it’s empty, but it turns sharply to the right a few meters down. She turns to her partner, who’s looking down the other side of it.

“We should split up,” Lassiter says. 

“Yeah,” she agrees. “You take that hall, I’ll take this one. Shout if you find something.” With that, they move swiftly off in separate directions.

It’s fine for about two minutes. Then, as she’s looking carefully through the unoccupied building- many suspicious stains and a _lot_ of illegal drugs, but no signs of life- fear begins to creep in. Juliet remembers the thug who had limped into the station earlier that day, nearly unconscious from blood loss but intent on selling out the members of the drug ring that had turned on him. She really doesn’t want her partner to run into those guys. Juliet continues through the darkness as memories of the last time she and Lassiter had split up rise unbidden. _Snap out of it, O’Hara,_ she tells herself. _Madana cleared you for duty literally yesterday. Don’t screw this up now._ She spends a few more minutes finding nobody before anything happens.

“SBPD! DROP YOUR WEAPON!” Lassiter roars from somewhere to her left. Immediately, Juliet veers in that direction, only to be thwarted by several shipping containers. She curses and begins climbing a flight of metal stairs, but that puts her out on a catwalk. At least now she has a better view of the situation… six armed men glaring at her partner, who, no matter what he says, is not fully recovered from his concussion. Juliet’s just glad they’d had the foresight to wear bulletproof vests. 

A quick analysis of the catwalk tells her that there’s no quick path into the fray, and she curses again, drawing her weapon. If she has to, she could make a shot from up here, but she’d really rather not. There has to be a way down. Looking down at a sharper angle, Juliet notices she’s standing directly above the shipping containers that had been in her way earlier, and they’re a few feet wider than the catwalk on either side. Now, there’s an idea… 

/////////////////

Lassiter is starting to wonder how much longer he has before the idiots in front of him open fire when a loud rattling of metal comes from the catwalk above his head, followed by the clanging crash of a person rolling across the top of the container behind him. The drug lords turn their attention to the noise, looking wary. “O’Hara?” Lassiter calls cautiously, not daring to take his eyes off his opponents.

In lieu of a response, he hears a _thud_ on the concrete, a muttered, “Ow, _fuck,_ ” and then a louder, “SBPD! You’re under arrest!”

Yep, that’s his partner, alright. “Drop your weapons,” He repeats, glaring at the criminals as he and O’Hara aim pistols at them. Slowly, they do.

“On your knees,” O’Hara orders.

“Hands on your head,” Lassiter adds.

“Who sold us out?” Growls a bearded thug.

“You have the right to remain silent,” responds Juliet. Together, they finish arresting the men and haul them out to the waiting cruisers. After the last door is locked, O’Hara gives him a grin and a high five.

“How’s your ankle?” He asks.

“Eh,” she says. “It’s probably fine.”

“Why, exactly, did you think it was a good idea to jump ten feet off of a shipping container?”

“I couldn’t really go around it.”

“I had the situation under control!” Juliet’s smile fades a bit and he frowns. “What?”

“I know you did, and I know you can handle yourself… but the last time we split up and you needed my help, I wasn’t there.”

Lassiter sighs and offers her his arm, for both physical and emotional support. “You were there this time,” he says. “We got ‘em.”

“Hell yeah we did.”

“Now, go get that ankle checked out.”

“Damnit, Carlton, I said I’m fine!”

“For the love of god, O’Hara, just put some ice on it!”

They’re still arguing when the arrive at the station. The chief sends O’Hara to the hospital for x-rays.

/////////////////

Shawn smiles at Juliet as he sips his pineapple smoothie. “Sounds like you made a pretty badass entrance,” he says as she finishes recounting the events that had led to her sprained ankle. “I hope those druggies were suitably intimidated.”

“I think they were more confused than intimidated, but it kept them from shooting me, so I’ll take what I can get.” Shawn laughs, but it hurts his shoulder (still? He’s getting tired of this; it’s been almost two weeks) and they lapse into a silence that slowly grows uncomfortable. Shawn notices the clock ticking closer and closer to two-thirty. “What did it feel like?” Juliet asks suddenly. He cocks his head, confused, but she continues.

“I mean, not physically, but what were you thinking, what was going through your head, when…” she trails off and gestures to his sling-covered shoulder.

“I wasn’t expecting it. Honestly, at the moment the bullet hit, I was feeling relieved. You and Lassie showed up to save the day, and I knew everything would work out,” he tells her.

“I’m sorry we weren’t faster,” Jules responds softly.

“Hey, look on the bright side. If I hadn’t gotten shot, it would have taken me a lot longer to tell you how I felt.”

She looks at him with those unfairly blue eyes that never fail to make him melt. “So… you don’t regret it?”

“Never,” he whispers.

///////////////////

Abigail stares in shock at the phone in her hands. The call that has just ended seems like a sign from the universe. Six months teaching in Uganda, leaving in two weeks. Of course, that means she needs to decide by the end of this week. Her next step is clear, but it’s not going to be easy. Taking a deep breath, she takes the final steps down the hospital hallway and pushes open the door to Shawn’s room. To her surprise, Juliet O’Hara is sitting with Shawn- she hasn’t seen the detective since the first weekend after Shawn’s injury.

“Hey,” she greets, smiling tightly as she waves at the pair. “Uh, Juliet, could I talk to Shawn alone for a sec?”

“Oh, yeah, sorry, I was just leaving-“ Juliet jumps too quickly from her seat, and evidently, she’s injured herself somehow because her cascade of apologies is cut off by a wince of pain. The blonde leaves and Abigail turns to her boyfriend. 

“How are you feeling, Shawn?”

“Bored,” he responds. “My shoulder doesn’t really hurt that much anymore and I wanna get out of here.”

“Do you know when you’re being discharged?”

“Well, today’s Wednesday and they said I most likely won’t have to stay through the weekend, so two or three more days, I think.”

“That’s good.”

“Are you okay?” he asks. “You seem like you’ve got something on your mind.”

“Yeah…” Abigail takes a breath, unsure of how to start. “Shawn, I’ve been given an opportunity to teach kids in Uganda. It’s nearly a once-in-a-lifetime chance, and I really think it would be great for me. I want to go.”

“Wow,” Shawn says, his brow wrinkling. “Yeah, that does sound great. Uganda’s a city in Africa, right?”

“It’s a country, but yes,” Abigail answers. “Um, I would be gone for six months. Six months, on another continent, and Shawn, I honestly don’t think we could make it through a long-distance relationship.” A little more blunt than she’d intended, but at least it was out there. She’d ripped the band-aid off. _you just broke up with your boyfriend while he’s in the_ hospital _after getting_ shot, chastises the voice in her head.

“Wow,” Shawn repeats, and Abigail officially feels horrible. “I mean, I think you’re right.” 

She swallows. “I leave in two weeks. I have to give them an answer by Saturday.”

“You should go, Abigail,” he insists. “I’m… I’m really sorry. You deserve better than me. You deserve someone who can make you a priority, and not make you worry that they’re going to get themselves killed.”

“Shawn, you’re an amazing guy,” she tells him. “Sure, there were times when you had to cancel because of work, but you’re really caring, and funny, and kind. If you can be such a great boyfriend while you’re in love with someone else, then… Juliet’s going to be lucky to have you.”

“I’m sorry,” he says again, his voice soft. “I know you’ll have a wonderful time in Uganda. Maybe send Gus and me a postcard?”

“I will,” Abigail says with a smile, and when she stands, there’s an air of finality to it. She leans over to give him one final kiss on the lips. “Goodbye, Shawn. Have fun chasing psychopaths,” she says.

He looks at her, blue eyes meeting brown ones. “Goodbye, Abigail.”

She turns and leaves without looking back. He won’t see her again for years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading!


	7. This is What Love Feels Like

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They may not all be okay, but they're getting there. They're getting there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, guys. This is officially the last chapter of this story and this series. If you've read this far, thanks for sticking with me <3

On Friday night, to celebrate Shawn being released from the hospital, he, Lassie, Jules, and Gus all go out to dinner. They take up the corner bench of the rooftop deck of the Salty Starfish, a popular oceanside pub near the harbor. As their drinks and appetizers are served, Juliet lifts her glass. 

“A toast,” she says, “To recovery, physically and mentally, however long it may take.”

“To justice,” Lassiter adds, raising his own.

“To friendship,” Gus says.

Shawn thinks for a second about what he wants to contribute, then grins. “To Jules,” he chimes in, “For saving the day once again!”

Juliet blushes, but her protests are cut off by Lassie and Gus enthusiastically exclaiming, “To Juliet!” They all drink, and the conversation turns to what they want for dinner. Shawn decides he wants a pineapple pizza.

“You don’t order pizza at a seafood restaurant, Shawn,” Gus argues.

“Gus don’t be an unripe pineapple when I’ve just gotten back from a run and I’m really hungry. It’s on the menu, why shouldn’t I order it?”

“I want a burger,” Lassie grumbles.

“Boys,” Juliet says, “How about a Blue Plate? We can get pineapple pizza pucks for Shawn, sliders for Carlton, the catch of the day for me, whatever Gus wants to eat, and some garlic knots to share.”

“O’Hara, you know I don’t share garlic knots,” says Lassie.

“Neither do I, Lassie,” Shawn agrees.

“Okay, we’ll get extra garlic knots,” Juliet relents. “Does that work for everybody?”

Murmurs of assent come from around the table, and Jules flags down a waitress. Waiting for their food, they lapse into silence, and of course, Shawn has to do something about that. “So, Jules, I heard you nearly throttled the guy who shot me,” he says, as chipper as if he was discussing something pineapple-related.

 _”How? How did you hear that?”_ Lassiter mutters under his breath.

“I was just… making sure he knew he’d screwed up,” Juliet says, distractedly dragging a pita chip through some hummus.

Shawn leans back, only wincing a little as he spreads his arms over the back of his bench. “I bet you looked hot,” he says with a smirking grin. She throws one of her chips at him. Hummus splatters across his shirt. “Hey! I’m just saying!”

“You say a lot of things, Shawn Spencer,” she responds.

“That is true. And I mean every one of them,” Shawn says, grinning as she finally makes eye contact with him.

Gus ruins the moment with a snort. “No, you don’t.”

“Why, Gus, you wound me. Are you suggesting that I am not a man of my word?”

“Spencer,” interjects Lassie, “I’ve _lost count_ of how many times you lead us confidently in one direction only to backpedal once we get there and change your mind completely.”

“But I do lead you _confidently,_ Lassie,” Shawn replies. “And I think that’s what matters.”

“Shawn, you’re an idiot,” Gus says, with a put-upon sigh.

“Maybe so, Gus,” he agrees. “Maybe so.”

/////////////////////

It’s Tuesday of the following week, and Juliet stands silently near the doorway of the chief’s office, watching her boss shuffle a few of the many papers on her desk into a neater stack.

“Chief, you asked to see us?” Carlton asks finally.

“Yes, I did, detectives,” Chief Vick responds, her gaze sweeping over both of them as she straightens. “I heard something… peculiar from the defense attorneys appointed to serve Misters Rollins and Stubbins earlier today. Do either of you want to guess what that was?”

Lassiter shrugs. Juliet attempts to appear nonchalant.

“According to Mr. Reynolds, one of his clients, I believe it was Stubbins, though frankly I couldn’t care less, was, and I quote, ‘unnecessarily brutalized’ by my detective.” She stops there, arms folded across her chest.

Lassiter gives another awkward shrug. “Well, I was pretty out of it for most of the arrest, and how much faith can we put in the words of a criminal, really?”

The chief turns her stare to Juliet. “Detective O’Hara?” Juliet meets her gaze steadily.

“In order to prevent a possibly unfavorable situation with a suspect who has a history of violence, I employed more force than I might have used in a more routine arrest,” she answers carefully.

Chief Vick gives her a look that makes it feel like she’s staring into Juliet’s soul. “Next time,” she says, after a long silence, “Don’t do it in front of so many witnesses.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“You’re both dismissed,” the chief finishes, turning back to her paperwork. Juliet and Lassiter leave the office without further comment.

//////////////////

After a few minutes of searching the station, Gus catches sight of Juliet leaving the chief’s office, Lassiter behind her. “Juliet!” He calls, dodging past several officers as he crosses the bullpen. “Hey, uh, can I talk to you for a sec?” He asks as he reaches her.

“Sure,” Juliet replies, her nose crinkling as she moves toward her desk. “Is something wrong?”

“No. Well, not exactly,” Gus stammers, stumbling over his words. “See, the thing is, there’s a big pharmaceutical convention in LA, and it was supposed to be next month, but due to a lot of things you won’t care about it got moved to this week. It’s the biggest one of the year, and I skipped out last year when Shawn and I were clearing Lassiter’s name. I can’t get out of it this year, but… listen, Shawn would kill me if he knew I was coming to you with this, but I’m worried about him. He says he’s okay but he’s not. He’s trying to recover too fast and I’m still getting cryptic text messages at two am. I’m worried if I go to LA I won’t be there when he needs me so… could you maybe, I don’t know, check on him? Bring him food, remind him he’s not allowed to ride his motorcycle? I know it’s like I’m asking you to babysit, but-“

“Gus!” Juliet says. “You’re rambling. Don’t worry, you’re not asking me to do anything I’m uncomfortable with. I can absolutely hang out with Shawn this week,” she assures him. “I was kind of planning on it anyway.”

“Oh.” Gus looks relieved. Then he glances at his watch. “Shoot! My flight leaves in three hours and I’m not even packed!”

“You should probably get going, then,” Juliet laughs.

“Yeah. Thanks again,” Gus calls as he jogs away.

“No problem,” Juliet mutters as thoughts about what exactly she’s gotten herself into begin to fill her mind. “No problem.”

/////////////////////////

It’s getting towards the later end of what can be classified as ‘dinner time’, and Shawn has forgone food, as he so often does when unsupervised, in favor of picking a movie to watch. It’s harder to choose without Gus’ input. As he’s deciding between _The Breakfast Club_ and _Back to the Future_ , he hears a knock at the door. It’s a testament to the roughness of the past few weeks that he actually looks out the window before answering.

“Jules!” He exclaims, genuinely surprised and delighted to find the blonde detective on his doorstep. “What brings you here at this hour?”  
“Food, for starters,” she replies, holding up several takeout packages. “Also, I just… felt like I wanted to see you… also Gus told me he thought you might be lonely since he was away at his conference, but I swear that’s not the only reason I’m here, and I enjoy spending time with you-“

“Jules,” Shawn interrupts, laughing. “I don’t care if Gus put you up to this. The fact that you cared enough to show up is good enough for me.”

“Oh, okay then,” she says, blushing. 

“Do you want to come inside?”

“Yes. That would be great.” She smiles at him and he falls in love all over again.

////////////////////

To Juliet’s relief, the awkwardness from the beginning of her visit had disappeared before they’d even finished opening the Chinese food. They drink beer and then water and they finish the meal and watch a movie- together, they end up picking _The Breakfast Club_. By the time the credits roll, Juliet is curled into Shawn’s side and he’s got an arm over her shoulder, fingers absently combing through her hair. Shawn hums along with the music, and Juliet smiles up at him, enjoying the carefree relaxation the night has brought both of them. 

“It’s a classic movie,” Shawn proclaims as the screen goes dark and they slowly untangle from each other.

“It absolutely is,” Juliet agrees. She pushes up from the couch, definitely not taking an extra second to inhale Shawn’s warm scent. “Wow, it’s later then I thought! I have to work tomorrow…”

“Mmmn,” Shawn hums, frowning. “I guess… I guess you should get going then.”

“Yeah,” Juliet says, equally disappointed. She pulls her jacket on and grabs her purse. “Well, uh, goodnight, Shawn.”

“Goodnight, Jules,” he murmurs quietly. She’s almost at the door when he speaks again.

“Stay,” he says suddenly. She turns to face him, and she must be making some sort of face, because he runs a hand through his hair in frustration. “Not... not like that,” he mutters. “I just… you know what, forget it.”

“Shawn,” she asks, stepping away from the door. “You can talk to me. Come on.”

“It’s just, god, it’s pathetic,” he growls, standing and beginning to pace. “But I can’t, I can’t get it out of my head. I almost died, yeah, but’s it’s been weeks, and I still am barely getting any sleep. Every time I close my eyes, I wake up screaming, and… I don’t know how to make it better.”

Juliet is overwhelmed by a sudden urge to kiss him, but she pushes that to the back burner. “Shawn,” she says softly, reaching out to still his movement. “Shawn, you’re not the only one.” He looks at her, his eyes big and questioning. “I was there, too, remember? Sometimes I wake up convinced I’m still covered in your blood, and Shawn, I hate it. Just thinking about how close I came to losing you… I don’t want to lose you,” she trails off, her voice barely louder than a whisper. 

At this point, she and Shawn are standing impossibly close. The energy in the air feels familiar, just like that night in the station and then again at the drive in. Juliet looks from Shawn’s eyes to his lips. She may not be certain of much, but she does know that she doesn’t want a third version of this to end with her walking away. The detective tries for a deep breath, but there doesn’t seem to be much air left in the room. Slowly, she rises up on her toes and gently pulls at a fistful of Shawn’s t-shirt. He leans forward obligingly and at long last, their lips meet.

//////////////////

Kissing Juliet steals all of Shawn’s breath at once and makes him go weak in the knees. Jules kisses with the same ferocity she shows when chasing down a criminal and the same compassion she conveys with a soft smile or a gentle squeeze of the hand. Her hands are moving over his chest and his shoulders and around his neck as she pulls him closer; he goes willingly. He’d go anywhere if she asked him.

////////////////

Kissing Shawn makes Juliet’s head spin in a very, very good way. Shawn kisses with more heat than all of the not-so-innocent looks he’d given her over the years combined. So many things that have gone unsaid between them are poured into it. Juliet pulls Shawn closer and he practically melts into her, cupping her face and sliding a hand into her hair. She moans a little, then sighs as he pulls away. They’re both short of breath.

“Shawn,” she tells him, when her brain regains the capability to process complex thought. “I just realized… what you said to me in the parking lot, I haven’t said it back.”

“You don’t have to,” he says quickly, eyes darting as he gently takes her hand. “If you don’t feel like- if you’re not ready-“

She chuckles. “Where have you been for the past few minutes?”

“Well, I was a little busy…”

She kisses him gently one more time. “Shawn… I think this, this combination of worry and elation that makes me feel like I’m a little insane, I think this is what love feels like. So, I guess… Shawn, I love you.”

Shawn’s giving her that look again, the one from the hospital, like she’s the most amazing thing to ever exist. Juliet is sure that she would be blushing if she weren’t already flushed. “I love you, Juliet,” he tells her. “I love you so, so much.”

“Shawn,” she murmurs, leaning into his chest, “Let’s get some sleep.”

//////////////////////

The next morning, Juliet wakes in Shawn’s bed as sunlight filters in through the semi-open blinds. She’s curled tightly around Shawn who’s reciprocating with an arm around her waist and his face in her hair. She doesn’t move because she doesn’t need to; work be damned, she could spend the rest of the day right here. For the first time since that night in the parking lot, Juliet O’Hara knows everything is going to be okay.

She smiles and goes right back to sleep.

 

_fin_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you have it! Let me know your thoughts!

**Author's Note:**

> Shawn's finally awake! Almost. Loved it? Hated it? Leave a comment, let me know!


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